


The Angel With Nine Lives

by klove0511



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Transformation, Case Fic, Cursed Object, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Slash, Sam Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Sastiel Reverse Bang 2019, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 17:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21285470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klove0511/pseuds/klove0511
Summary: In the wake of Dean and Gadreel's departures, Sam and Cas return to the bunker to search for a way to track Metatron. When Castiel vanishes and a cat invites itself into the bunker to stay, however, Sam must figure out what has happened to his angel.
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 95
Collections: Sastiel Reverse Bang 2019





	The Angel With Nine Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my wonderful artist dmsilvisart for their lovely art prompt and header! I had a ton of fun working on this project, and I have to say, I rather enjoy the story that came out of it. Also a big thank you to everyone that looked this over for me before posting--dmsilvisart, MTC5, and my ever-patient wife. It's definitely a better story thanks to your feedback. 
> 
> If you like the art, go to https://dmsilvisart.tumblr.com/post/188770193618/the-angel-with-nine-lives-art-masterpost and give dmsilvisart some love!

Dust flew as Sam opened another box in the storage room. Everything in here was unorganized, marginally controlled chaos. It seemed like the Men of Letters had received the two dozen boxes as a bulk shipment shortly before they were destroyed, and so no one had had the time to sort the new magical items. Everything had documentation somewhere, but whoever had packed the boxes clearly had his mind on other things because none of it was with its intended item.

Sam coughed and reached into the box. He hoped something in this room would be helpful in tracking angels, because he and Cas had scoured the rest of the bunker over the last week and come up with nothing useful.

Cas was upstairs retreading old ground in case they’d missed something, leaving Sam to sort and brood in peace.

He didn’t want to think about Dean or what Dean had done, but it was difficult to think of anything else. Instead of presenting Gadreel as an option, giving Sam the choice to choose to live, Dean had decided Sam couldn’t be trusted to make the “right” decision. Again. He honestly wasn’t sure if it was the mind rape or the lack of trust that hurt worst, but both had given him nightmare fuel for days, interspersed, of course, with memories of his own hands burning out Kevin’s eyes.

Sam pulled out several books on demons and set them aside, trying to divert his train of thought. It led down a dark path, one Castiel had already pulled him off once. ‘Nothing is worth losing you,’ he’d said. Sam couldn’t say he agreed, exactly, but he thought Cas had made the right call during the grace extraction. It was doubtful they would have had enough grace for the spell regardless, and then Sam would have died for nothing. The least he could do was make his death meaningful.

The box was empty, having contained only books. Several looked interesting and useful for hunting in general, but nothing appeared to be relevant to their current mission. He sighed and cracked open the next box, coughing and waving away the accompanying dust. Pausing before he dug into the contents, he took a moment to marvel at how remarkable it was that Castiel, angel of the Lord, could place such high value on the life of someone like Sam. He couldn’t have really meant what he’d said, right? Not literally. Then again, Cas was the most literal person Sam had ever met. The words ran through his mind again. ‘Nothing is worth losing you.’ It made Sam wonder, just a bit, if Cas could, if Cas _did_ feel more for him than friendship, than brotherhood. If he might look at Sam the way Sam had seen him for years.

Sam pulled a statue of a veiled woman out of the box and frowned at it. The hair on his arms stood on end, and the air was heavy, like trying to breathe soup. The statue emanated power. The Men of Letters were usually good about properly packaging cursed objects—he’d found several curse boxes already and set them aside until he could find the documentation that went with them. Theoretically, that meant that whatever this thing was, it at least wasn’t cursed. He was placing it on the table beside the box when Castiel entered, and he turned to face the angel, statue still in hand.

“Did you find something?” Sam asked.

Castiel frowned at the stack of empty boxes in the corner and said, “Sam, when is the last time you ate?”

Sam shrugged. “This morning, I think. Why?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What day is it?”

Sam looked at the angel, perplexed. “Tuesday. Cas, what’s going on?”

Cas sighed and glared at Sam. “It’s Wednesday morning. I assume you’ve been down here all night?”

Sam looked around at the piles of boxes. He didn’t feel like he’d spent a whole day in here, but it was always possible. He’d certainly gotten a lot done.

Cas pressed his lips into a line. “I’m going to the store. What food we have left has gone bad. Should I bother suggesting you rest in the meantime?”

One side of Sam’s mouth tugged upward into a fond smile. “You’re right. I’ll go grab a nap and a shower, then something to eat. Deal?”

Cas nodded and stalked away. Sam huffed a laugh. He didn’t try to annoy the angel, not like Dean did, but Cas was pretty adorable when he was irritated—like a disgruntled cat. His mother hen impression was pretty cute too. In any case, Cas was right. Sam checked his phone and confirmed he’d been awake nearly thirty hours. Finally setting the statue down, he went and crashed in his room. He was asleep almost instantly.

Four hours later, Sam’s stomach angrily grumbling woke him from a nightmare where he was being chased by a Lammasu—a winged lion he’d read about in some textbook somewhere but he’d been lucky enough to never encounter in person. He shook off the remnants of the dream and grabbed some food from the kitchen—Cas had obviously made it back from his grocery run at some point—then stopped for a quick shower before making his way back to the storeroom to keep working. He hadn’t seen Cas, but the bunker was big and it was easy to spend hours alone when there were only the two of them around. As he got back to work in the storeroom, Sam set an alarm on his phone so he wouldn’t work through the night again.

Barely an hour later, he heard a banging that seemed to be coming from the front door. Curious and wary, he went to open it, pulling his gun as he went.

He opened the door, leveling the gun at…nobody? Confused, he looked around, then down as alarmed meowing started. Sitting in front of the door and looking extremely put out was a Siamese cat with cream fur except where it darkened to a rich chocolate on its legs, ears, face and tail. It blinked stunning blue eyes at him and grew quiet as he slowly lowered his gun.

Baffled, he moved to close the door and return to his work when the cat darted inside, nearly tripping him on its way. It started its chatter again as it descended the stairs, and Sam could swear there was intelligence in its eyes as it stopped and looked at him with a quizzical head tilt from the doorway leading to the bedrooms, then padded away down the hall.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. Apparently he had a cat now. Dean was going to be pissed when he finally decided to come home.

Two days later, Sam stared at his phone, willing it to ring. Cas was missing and not answering his phone. After the third voicemail, Sam had made himself stop calling, busying himself with researching cats and purchasing supplies, but there were only so many catnip mice and string toys he could order before he remembered that his brother had betrayed and abandoned him and his best friend had vanished without a word. He’d noticed yesterday morning when the angel hadn’t appeared for his usual cup of coffee, but he honestly wasn’t sure how long the angel had been gone. He hadn’t seen Cas since he’d left for the grocery store. The fresh food meant he’d returned, but there was no sign of when he’d left again.

The cat had made itself at home in the meantime, mostly following Sam around and staring at him with its unsettling gaze or meowing loudly at him when he didn’t go to bed at a reasonable time. It was an affectionate thing, though, always purring at the slightest touch from Sam and pushing its head under his hand. In fact, it knocked Sam out of his reverie by jumping onto the seat next to him and head butting his arm. Sam idly reached down to scratch behind its ears as he decided to try Cas one more time.

Pressing the phone to his ear as he waited for it to connect, he absently stroked the soft fur next to him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Cas’s phone ringing. Looking around for the source, he realized after a moment that the _cat_ was ringing. Sam sat, frozen, glancing between the ringing cat and his phone. The cat rolled its eyes, then mashed a paw against Sam’s phone, ending the call. It just looked at him before giving him an exasperated meow.

“Cas?” Sam whispered.

The cat chirped and trilled, arching its back before slamming its head into Sam’s side.

Sam was bewildered. Of all the crazy things that had happened to them, this might be the weirdest. Even that time Dean had sort of turned into a dog he hadn’t _literally_ turned into a dog. He knew Cas wasn’t going to be able to answer him, but he had to ask. “Cas, how did you get turned into a _cat_?”

Cas could not figure out what had happened. He was certainly not a cat, but Sam persisted in his assertion that he was. Sam was not ill or hallucinating, as Castiel had checked—several times, in fact. The only other feasible explanation was that there was magic at work. But who would bespell an item to make one perceive others as felines?

His research into tracking Gadreel and Metatron was going to have to wait until he fixed whatever had happened to Sam, who was out searching for leads he was certainly not going to find. Cas sat at one of the library tables, surrounded by books on illusion magic, and he stared at his phone. Dean would want to know his brother was under the influence of a spell. He’d be angry if he found out something had happened to Sam, but he would be furious if he didn’t hear it from Castiel. Still, if Castiel could fix whatever was wrong before Dean found out, then he would never need to know. He was sure Sam would prefer that option, though Sam was still unaware that he was the one under the influence of magic.

The angel still hesitated, thumb hovering over Dean’s name. No. He would fix this. Dean would be angry if he found out, but Sam would never forgive him. Not now, when the human was already so vulnerable. As Sam had said, they got this.

Sighing, Cas pocketed his phone and pulled one of the books toward him. Sam would be unable to help research this, so Cas ought to get started. He tried not to think about how good Sam’s hand had felt ruffling his hair before he’d realized it was Cas he was petting.

Sam was exhausted. He’d canvassed half of Lebanon trying to figure out what had happened to Cas. No one had seen anything suspicious, though several people remembered the “handsome man in a trench coat.” Two had inquired about whether Cas was single, and three had told him they hoped he found his boyfriend soon. Sam wasn’t sure what had given them that particular impression, but he didn’t question it. People thought he and Dean were a couple all the time.

His next step was searching news outlets for anything that sounded like witches or cursed objects, his two leading theories at the moment. If that yielded nothing, then it was time to hit the books again.

Three days and four failed spells later, even Sam could admit he was running himself into the ground. He could scarcely protest when Cas decided to lay across the books he was reading (rereading), effectively interrupting his research. The angel twitched his tail and released a low grumble when Sam attempted to dislodge him. Admitting defeat, Sam raised his hands in surrender and pushed back his chair.

“You’re right; I need a break. I’m going to go watch a movie or something in my room. You want to join me?” At least Castiel could still understand him, though he missed the sound of the angel’s voice.

Cas tilted his head in a manner so familiar, Sam almost laughed. Then he hopped off the table and trotted past Sam, briefly turning and waiting at the entrance to the library. Sam grinned and followed the cat to his room.

Castiel was glad Sam had decided to spend the evening relaxing, but he was unclear on the social protocol of where he should sit now that Sam perceived him as feline. Normally, he would use the desk chair in Sam’s room, but for reasons he could not articulate he found himself reluctant to sit so far away. Perhaps it had something to do with how much Sam had begun touching him the last few days. Even now that he was aware that the “cat” was Castiel, Sam seemed to instinctively want to reach out and pet, running his hand through Castiel’s hair or down his back. At one point he had hoped that the spell would be unable to resolve the impossibilities that physically touching created—he was, after all, decidedly NOT covered in fur—but that hope had been dashed days ago. Still, he was enjoying the proximity to one of his favorite humans and wished for it to continue.

Sam ultimately settled the matter for him by patting the bed next to his leg, inviting the angel to join him. Castiel hesitated a moment longer, knowing that Sam was unaware of just how little space there would be on the bed with both of them there and wondering if indulging himself was strictly ethical in this case. Then, he decided that he ought to take the invitation at face value and settled himself shoulder to shoulder with Sam.

A few minutes into the movie (Castiel had not bothered to pay attention to the title. There were people doing illogical things and very few explosions) Sam began absently stroking Cas’s leg alarmingly near his groin. The angel whined in a most undignified way as arousal jolted through him, and he wondered what noise Sam had heard because he has immediately snatched his hand away as though burned.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “I don’t—I wasn’t thinking.” He held himself stiffly, staring at his hands in his lap and picking at one of his cuticles.

Cas’s inability to communicate with Sam had never been more frustrating. Worse was that he had no idea how the spell would interpret anything he said or did. Still, he had to try. Seeing Sam look so guilty was heartbreaking. He _liked_ when Sam touched him. In theory, that ought to be simple enough to communicate. Gently, he lifted Sam’s hand and replaced it on his leg.

Sam stared at his hand for a moment, then began to stroke again. Castiel sighed in contentment. Sam looked surprised, then pleased.

Sam looked at the purring cat draped across his lap. He may have no idea how to turn Cas back, but he would figure it out. In the meantime, he could let himself enjoy this. Words seemed to get in the way so often, and with Cas in this form, well, things seemed easier. He kept petting Cas on accident, which would have been a problem if the angel didn’t seem to like it so much. Sam, for his part, was enjoying the physical contact more than he wanted to admit. He hadn’t had much of that in the last couple years.

Closing his eyes, he listened to the movie drone on while he relished the warmth of the cat on his lap. The soft rumble of Cas’s purring stirred something Sam hadn’t felt in a long time. So long, in fact, that he had trouble identifying it, but he thought it might be happiness. As he ran his fingers over the soft fur, he wondered if Cas would also enjoy an evening like this in his usual form.

Cas read the spell description for the fourth time. It had taken days, but he had finally found a document in that chaotic storeroom Sam had been unpacking that seemed to explain Sam’s affliction. It was a spell of true sight, designed to help one describe their feelings for another. A magical metaphor, as it were. A naïve young witch had cast the spell on a statue, a gift for her beloved, and it had bounced from owner to owner, wreaking havoc until the Men of Letters confiscated it. Castiel had found his answer. He just wasn’t sure he liked what it implied.

Many had denigrated his relationship with the Winchesters over the years. Mostly angels, but Crowley and others too. He’d even heard himself referred to as the Winchesters’ pet on occasion. He had simply never thought _Sam_ thought of him that way. He’d certainly never expressed such a feeling in Castiel’s presence.

It was painful, realizing his affection for the younger Winchester was one-sided, but it didn’t change anything. He would figure out how to break the spell on Sam, then he would go find Gadreel and Metatron. Find a way to make them pay. He would take what affection he could get, even if it was just as a faithful pet.

Sam stared down at the spell bowl in disbelief. That should have worked. He’d been sure this time. He’d finally found a spell claiming to dispel all transformation magic. It had been powerful but surprisingly simple. He hadn’t screwed it up. Which meant Cas was probably going to be stuck in this form forever.

He sank into his chair, resting his head in his hands. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t losing the only friend he had left to a stupid spell. Not when ‘Nothing is worth losing you’ kept ringing through his head. Sam wasn’t so sure about himself, but nothing was worth losing Cas.

As if on cue, the cat angel hopped up on the table and headbutted him. Sam automatically began to pet him and scratch behind the ears. It was soothing, and so was Castiel’s quiet, rumbling purr. Unfortunately, it was also a reminder of Sam’s most recent failure. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t give up. That’s not what they did. That’s not what _he_ did. There was an answer out there, somewhere. It just obviously wasn’t in the Men of Letters library. He tried not to think about how that significantly lengthened the odds of his finding a way to save Cas.

Running his hand down the length of the cat’s back, making Cas arch up into his touch, Sam pushed himself away from the table. “Come on. Time for bed.”

Settled in Sam’s room as they’d done every night for the last four days, with Cas pressed up against his leg and purring contentedly, Sam couldn’t help murmuring, “You really do make a fantastic cat, Cas.”

The purring stopped, and Cas lifted his head to look at Sam, wide blue eyes unblinking.

“I mean it,” Sam said. “I read that scientists think they domesticated themselves, just decided they liked people and moved in. And they’re all tiny badasses, stupidly brave even in the face of an overwhelming threat. I must’ve watched a dozen videos this week of cats chasing off bears, snakes, even an alligator once. They’re incredible, just like you.” Sam smiled fondly, then sighed, picking at an abused cuticle. “Look, I know this sucks, but I promise I’m not going to let you be stuck like this. Cats are awesome, and you are such a cat, but you are so, so much more than a house pet.”

Sam blinked, and suddenly his bed was much more crowded. Their bodies were pressed together in a long line from shoulder to knee, and Sam’s hand was resting remarkably high on Castiel’s thigh. Cas blinked up at him, a dopey, pleased smile on his face. Sam was proud of himself for not startling so badly that he fell off the bed.

“Cas? What the hell?”

Confusion flashed across the angel’s face, then his expression grew serious. “Sam? Can you see me?”

“I could always see you.”

Cas glared minutely. “But now you see _me_, not a cat. You can understand me.”

Sam nodded, still trying to figure out what had broken the spell—a delayed reaction from his spell, maybe?

Cas ended up explaining but made no move to leave Sam’s personal space. Sam, for his part, was still too stunned to trust his legs.

“So, you’ve been sleeping in my bed like this the whole time?” Sam said.

“You seemed to enjoy my presence.” Cas was matter-of-fact, unapologetic, and it made something flip-flop in Sam’s chest.

He grinned. “I did. I do, but, Cas, this bed isn’t really big enough for both of us.”

“Oh.” Cas frowned, doubt and insecurity playing over his face for the first time in the conversation. Awkwardly, he began to roll away until Sam snagged his wrist.

“Maybe tomorrow we can get me a bigger bed?” Sam said cautiously. He wasn’t sure Cas would understand what he was proposing, if it was even something an angel could want with someone like him, but he was feeling brave.

Confusion flicked across Cas’s face before understanding dawned. “_Oh_. I would like that very much.”

Sam smiled. “Right. Good.”

Cas shifted awkwardly again. “What, um, what would you like me to do tonight?”

Sam looked at their feet, how they barely fit side by side on the small bed. He imagined, for a moment, what it would be like without the warm line at his back that he’d been enjoying for days without really thinking about it. More comfortable, probably, but oh so lonely. “Stay. If you want. I’d—I’d like it if you stayed.” He hoped he hadn’t sounded too desperate.

Joy lit up his angel’s face as he replied, “I would like that very much, too.”


End file.
